


A Life Not My Own

by Poison_Bubble



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Also Doesn't Add Up But Whatever, Cole's Alive In The Past Even Though The Math Doesn't Add Up Give Me Patience, Connor angst, Erased AU, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Give My Writing Mercy This Is My Second Fic Youch, I Watched Erased In One Sitting And This Is What Happened, Kid Connor, Kid Gavin, Please Help Connor He Is But a Lost Child, The Murder Mystery's A Foot!, time travel?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-26
Updated: 2018-10-26
Packaged: 2019-08-07 16:53:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16412303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Poison_Bubble/pseuds/Poison_Bubble
Summary: Connor finds Hank's dead body and is framed for the crime; he runs to catch up with the murderer, but it's too late. Or is it? In other words: I watched 'Erased' in one sitting and thought this would make a killer AU.





	1. Winter in the Spring

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ICantThinkOfAUsername01](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ICantThinkOfAUsername01/gifts).



> Heyo! This is my second fic, but it's an AU so we're doing something different here!! My friend Ariel deserves a shout-out for this one; she complained to me one day that there needed to be more Detroit: Become Human fanfics, and so I told her I'd write her one. This is it! It's first-and-foremost for her, but I figured I'd share it with everyone on here. Enjoy!

Connor blinked slowly as he watched the coffee machine pour the liquid into his mug, drop by measly drop. The android sighed. The days just kept getting harder and harder since winning the war and continuing detective work with Hank. It was, after all, what he was built to do; yet he couldn't get the musty flavor off of it after that peak of excitement was over. The cases sent to their firm were distasteful and boring in comparison, and he just couldn't feel that fulfillment he had before. It didn't help that Gavin was just as much of a prick as ever, albeit a quieter one. It was now illegal to discriminate against androids, a relief to many who survived. Connor was, of course, thankful for that law; he shook his head vigorously each time he selfishly wished the law were a bit more lenient so he had more to do. Of course, homicides were still decently prominent in downtown Detroit.

 

 _Ding._ The coffee maker alerted him of its completion in its task to make coffee. Connor awkwardly thanked the inanimate object and took the dark green mug in his hands. He had recently developed the strange habit of thanking all types of machines in his uncertainty of whether or not they may develop a consciousness. Hank had always chuckled to himself while shaking his head, although he left Connor time to give his appreciation. This time however, Hank wasn't there, and so Connor stood there a moment too long, looking strangely at the red machine as if waiting for an answer. It never came.

 

“Move aside, _plastic prick._ ” Gavin shoved Connor away from where he stood, only slightly though. _He doesn't want to cause a ruckus._ Connor observed. Gavin flicked his gaze towards the android, a strange expression on his face. He seemed to catch himself however, and began grumbling under his breath as he prepared his own cup. “What.” Gavin was looking at him now, brows furrowed. Connor raised his hands in mock surrender, careful not to spill Hank's coffee. “Nothing, I was simply observing how tired you look. Did you have any trouble sleeping?” Gavin huffed under his breath. “Some question, dumbass. Aren't you a detective?”

“Well sure, I just thought it impolite to say directly to you how you should probably see a doctor about your insomnia. Unchecked, it can lead to bad decisions and poor detective work.” Connor patted Gavin on the shoulder as he turned, a small smile gracing his lips. Gavin was fuming behind him.

 

“Look, I can see you're trying to be helpful, just take it a bit easier on Gavin, yea? He's going through some shit.” Hank then nodded thanks and took a sip of his coffee. _Hank always was good at seeing through people…_. It's what made him a good detective. Connor took off his jacket as he sat down, setting it on the back of his chair. “Any new cases, Lieutenant?”

“Nothing in our department, if that's what you mean.” Hank sighed, taking another sip of his coffee. Connor deflated a bit, sinking into his chair. Hank noticed. “Look, kid, we've got everything under control here, I think. If ya wanna bounce and explore the city a bit, I won't tell Chief.” Hank then winked and went back to his computer. Connor thought about that. _Explore the city…. But where would I go?_

 

He decided on a small coffee shop a little aways from the larger parts of the city. It was later in the evening, about 6 PM, and the crisp, spring air felt good in his lungs. It was a bit far away from the station, but that's what he wanted. A long walk to clear his head. He'd been stuck in that stale office for what felt like ages, no cases to oil his engines; he needed something to focus on, something to occupy his systems. What better place than a coffee shop? Everyone in coffee shops gossiped among themselves, telling many stories he could fixate on and explore. At least, that's what his library had to offer on coffee shops. And when was his intel ever wrong?

 

His intel was incredibly wrong. Disappointed, Connor sat at a small table in the corner of the shop. There were only about 3 conversations going on around him, all of which were mundane in nature. He idly picked at the wooden table, wishing to himself he could be as easily entertained. “Hey there, sweetie, can I getcha anything to eat or drink?” A waitress with kind brown eyes and a blue apron approached him with a clipboard and pen in hand. Connor scanned her. _Darcy Greene. 56. Caucasian Female. Born November 4th in Oklahoma. Waitress at ‘Pragmatic Bean’ in Detroit. Anti-Android._ He blinked. “No thanks.” He replied, picking at an interesting piece of wood coming apart from the table. “Oh, pish posh, hun! A young man like you, coming from a long day at work, lemme fix you some coffee cake, hmm? Fresh outta the oven!” Connor didn't look up at her. Ah. His jacket. He'd forgotten it at the station. _That's why this lady's being so nice to me._ He picked the wood piece free as his LED swirled yellow. He didn't know how to respond. Luckily, the change in color drew her attention and he didn't have to. He noticed from the side of his eye how her expression soured. “Oh. You're one of _them._ ” She said this as if being so was a disease. He would've felt hurt if he wasn't expecting it. He found it interesting how sudden the change was. Her posture was different, her face contorted into a look of hatred and disgust, her walk away from him was brisk and heavy. He absentmindedly wondered why as he turned his gaze towards the TV. _Maybe something interesting will be on…._

 

“ _We interrupt your weekend broadcast for some breaking news: A presumed serial murderer has been spotted around the downtown Detroit area. Please be safe and keep an eye out-_ ” _Something’s wrong._ “ _He was seen exiting a car near the Detroit City Police Department-_ ” _Something's definitely wrong._ Connor nearly jumped out of his chair, slamming his body on the door. He began sprinting back to the station, the cold air burning in his throat. _It’s too far._ He kept running, his systems begging him to slow down. _Why the hell did I think going this far would be a good idea?_ He bitterly huffed under his breath. _Hank really is rubbing off on me after all._ He skidded to a stop outside the police station, gasping for breath. Everything seemed normal. That’s what worried him. He made his way up the stairs with haste, bursting through the door. _Signs of a struggle._ He scanned the area. _No traces of thirium. No holes in the wall. Traces of blood._ Connor’s breath hitched. He knelt down to sample the blood. _Hank._ Connor got up quickly and ran into the detective’s department. His eyes widened. _No._ “Hank!” Connor ran over to the limp body collapsed on the floor, shaking him lightly. The blood seeping through Hank’s shirt soaked his hand red. “Hank! Hank, wake up!” He felt tears prickling at his eyes. He gently turned Hank over revealing the knife stabbed deeply into his abdomen. Connor sucked in a breath. He scanned Hank, trying to think clearly. _Lieutenant Hank Anderson. 53. Caucasian Male. Born September 6th in Detroit. Deceased._

 

Connor stumbled back, staring wide-eyed at Hank’s body. _Deceased. Deceased. Deceased._ The word kept repeating itself in his head. Hank was dead. The abrupt sirens snapped Connor back into the present. “Hold it right there! Hands in the air, don’t move! We’re just gonna ask you some questions.” Connor stood up slowly, hands half raised. _No. I wouldn’t kill Hank. You’ve got it all wrong._ The policeman drew closer, gun at the ready. _He could be getting away. The murderer. You’re letting him get away._ The policeman pulled out his handcuffs. “Now come easily, sir, it’ll just make it worse if you-” Connor twisted the man’s arm, making him drop the gun. He then kicked him down, using the momentum to quickly turn his body as he ran out the back. _I won’t let him get away._ “H-Hey! Hey, get back here! Attention, squad, I’m gonna need backup-” Connor ran as fast as he could, searching for clues as to where the real culprit might’ve gone. He scanned the road as he ran. _One million different human’s DNA traces left over the past 24 hours._ He cursed under his breath. It was unlikely he could track the murderer without a clear DNA reading. _I should've looked for that at the crime scene. Stupid!_ Connor kept running. He didn’t notice the truck turning round the corner until it collided with him going 38 MPH.

 

******

 

He woke up on the ground, his eyes blinking widely up at the sky. It was snowing. He slowly picked himself up, brushing the snow off his head and arms. _I’m not- damaged?_ Connor observed as his breath left tiny puffs of smoke while he breathed. _It’s cold._ He tilted his head at this realization. Android’s didn’t feel temperature. He tried to scan his surroundings, as they didn’t feel familiar. It wasn’t working. _Guess I’m damaged after all._ He soon found that he also couldn’t run a diagnostic. Something was wrong. He decided to wander a bit and try and figure out where he was. By the time he reached the nearby street, it was dark outside. The only lights were the golden lamp posts along the road. In the distance, he saw a small, wooden sign. He squinted and tried to zoom in and clarify the picture, yet nothing happened. _The blizzard must be tampering with my systems…._ He shuffled through the snow, wondering where it had all come from. It was spring in Detroit, which meant the occasional light snowfall; but nothing like this. He reached the sign and absentmindedly noticed how his whole body had become numb. ‘Pragmatic Bean, Detroit Coffee-Shop,’ the sign read. _Oh. Back here again._ He wondered how he had gotten there; he couldn’t recall. He had somewhere else to be. Hank was murdered, and he needed to find the criminal who did it. But the road was different, it looked farther away from the city, and so Connor decided to ask for directions inside.

 

Once he opened the door, the warm glow from inside wrapped around his body, the wind being left outdoors. He sighed as the overwhelming scent of freshly baked coffee cake and international beans flooded his systems. The sensation was so powerful, he staggered back a bit. “Oh, my. What are you doing outside in the freezing cold without a coat, little one? Come inside, please! Where are your parents?” Connor looked over at the woman standing at the other end of the shop. She seemed to be in her late 30’s. She had her hand held out tentatively, as if approaching a scared animal who may run away at any sudden movement. _Little one? Parents?_ He looked behind him for the child she may have been talking to. No one was there. “Hey, why don’t you come over here, ok? It’s much warmer inside, isn’t it? Ah! I know! How would you like a nice hot cup of cocoa to warm you up?” Connor tilted his head. _What the hell is she talking about?_ He closed the door anyway, and sat at the same table he had before. _Hm. They replaced it already?_ The chip he had picked out earlier was gone; these tables looked much newer in comparison to the old ones they had just a few hours before. Connor froze as he realized his legs were swinging from the chair; his feet didn’t reach the floor. He attempted to remain calm and run a diagnostic. Again, nothing happened. “What’s wrong, sweetie? You look like you’ve seen a ghost!” The woman came back with a large, orange mug of hot chocolate topped with whipped-cream. She was wearing a blue apron, and when Connor looked at her face, her brown eyes were smiling down at him, albeit concerned. She wore a nametag that read: ‘Darcy Greene.’ Horrified, Connor glanced over at the TV playing the sports game of the evening. The corner read: ‘NBA Basketball Finalists, 2020.’ _Wait. 2020?_ That was wrong. It was 2038. 2020 was 18 years ago. Connor couldn’t breathe. “Honey, are you alright? Do I need to call the police?” _Maybe the TV’s wrong._ “...What year is it?” The blizzard must’ve messed up his voice box as well, as his voice was higher-pitched and shaky. Darcy blinked. “It’s 2020, dear. Did you not know that?” She lifted her hand to her chin as she worried her lip between her teeth. “I’m going to make a quick call, hun, ok? A kid shouldn’t be out all on their own on a school night…”

“Don’t you remember me!?” He asked, his voice cracking in desperation. He was on the verge of tears. _This doesn’t make any sense!_ She looked down at him and tilted her head. “I’m sorry, sweetie, I can’t recall.... Should I?”

“Yes! Yes, I came in just a couple of hours ago! Then I left and- the last thing I remember is getting hit by a truck- but- I’m not damaged at all, and-” _And it’s not 2020._ The woman looked down at him, even more concerned now that he’s claimed to have gotten hit by a truck. “You don’t believe me?” He looked back down at the table, on the verge of tears as he said this, folding into himself pathetically. _My systems must’ve burned out. My emotional regulator should've cleared this minutes ago._ “I’m- I’m sorry, honey, I just- I’m gonna go make a call, alright? Stay right there.” She briskly walked toward the back of the shop, presumably where the phone was.

 

 _No, no, no. This is all wrong. She hates me- hates androids! Why doesn’t she- why doesn’t she remember??_ Connor got up and ran to the bathroom, not bothering to close the door behind him. He shakily put his hands against the mirror. _That’s not- that’s not right._ Looking back at him, tiny hands pressed against his, was a small boy, around the age of 10. He moved his head to the left, then the right, horrified as the child did the same. He was in the same clothes as before, although they were too large on him now. His skin was tinted blue from the cold, his deep brown eyes wide in fear. He had the same features as before but- he was younger? _This makes no sense. I wasn’t ever a child, how does this make sense?_ Connor kept frantically observing himself; touching his face, pulling at his hair, prying his eyes. He felt it. He _felt_ all of it. Connor began to panic. Tears streaming down his cheeks, burning against his cold skin, he began digging where his LED should've been. _It’s not there, it’s not there, it’s not there._ This mantra wouldn’t stop repeating in his head. He knew what had happened. He just couldn’t process it. And without the constant assistance of his infinite database, he was at a loss. “Oh my god, no,no,no! Honey, stop that, stop that right now!” Darcy ran to where he was helplessly scraping at his right temple. He had drawn blood. _It’s red._ She grabbed his hands and cradled him in a worried embrace. She was warm and comforting, yet the feeling was alien to him. It reminded him of the time Hank had comforted him after he’d witnessed Simon’s suicide. Remembering how Hank was murdered made him curl deeper into Darcy’s hold. “Shhh…. It’s ok, sweetie. I called the police, they’re on their way. They’re gonna help you get home, ok?” Connor whimpered over her shoulder. He didn’t have a home.

 

There was a slight knock on the door, and Connor felt a surge of panic. He was a suspect for killing Hank. He couldn’t be caught- he couldn’t. Darcy went to open the door, sending a small smile over her shoulder. It made him feel better. “Good evening, officers.”

“Good evening, ma’am. You said there was a lost child here?”

“Yes, he’s right over there,” she pointed. “Though please be careful, he’s very shy.…” She said this in a quieter voice, although Connor heard it anyway. The two policemen entered almost cautiously, nodding thanks to Darcy as they did. “Hey there, little guy. I’m Don, and this is Kim. We’re from the Detroit City Police Department. Are you lost?” Once he got close enough, he knelt down to be about Connor’s height. _Am I really that short?_ Connor shook his head as he pondered everything. _If this truly is 2020, then Hank hasn’t been murdered yet; and so I’m not a suspect for killing him._ He found some solace in this realization, although he was still on edge. “No? You’re not lost? Then where are your parents?” Don asked this calmly, while Kim stood still behind him. _They won’t let me run away…._ “I don’t have parents.” Don raised his eyebrows and looked back towards Kim, who shrugged. “Well, we’re gonna have to fact-check that. Would you mind coming with us to the station? You’d get to ride in a cop-car.” _Juvenile._ Connor contemplated his choices. He didn’t have many. Going to the station was his best bet on figuring out what the hell was going on. “Sure.” Don blinked at his simple and unamused answer as Connor walked past him and stood by the door. “Alrighty then! Thanks so much, Darcy. We’ll make sure we get him home.”

“Alright, well, goodnight then! And you!” She knelt down and ruffled Connor’s hair. “Stay warm.” She smiled softly at him before he was lead to the car; he almost instinctively went to the front seat, but he then corrected himself after receiving a strange look from Kim. _Back-seat. Right._

 

After a long and silent drive with Don and Kim whispering and sending glances back towards Connor, they finally arrived at the station. It looked nearly the same. “Ok, kiddo. We’re here! We’re gonna take you in and have you wait in the waiting room, alright? Don’t get any weird ideas though, there’s cameras in there.” _No one watches the cameras on the ground level._ “Ok.” He replied, unbuckling his seat-belt and opening the car door. Once inside, Connor was itching to look at the date. He couldn’t believe it was actually 2020. Either he was dreaming, which androids didn’t do, or he was dead, and this was some sort of weird incarnation thing. He thought the latter was more likely at this point. He looked to the left, then the right, observing his surroundings. Kim and Don were in the Chief’s room, explaining the situation; he was alone. He decided to explore a bit, who knew what was different 18 years ago? Once he turned into the detective’s department, his jaw dropped. _Hank._ But it wasn’t the Hank Connor knew. This Hank was smiling, joking with his co-workers. He looked put together and at peace with himself, busy at work, yet light-heartedly so. Then Connor realized. _This was 18 years ago… before the death of Cole._ Hank looked so much… happier then. It made Connor sad to know what happened to that happy man nearly a decade later. Hank spotted him watching; he smiled. “Hey there, kiddo.” He got up and walked over to where Connor was peaking around the corner, kneeling when close enough. “Whatcha doing here so late on a school night? Waiting for your parents?” Connor found it hard to look him in the eye. He shook his head. “Oh, hey, Hank. Found our lost boy, I see.” Kim stood behind Connor, setting his hand on his shoulder. Connor nearly jumped. “Ah, you’ve got kids, Kim?”

“Nah, this one’s lost. Can’t seem to find him in the databases though…. Says his name is Connor; hasn’t mentioned a last name, though.”

“Connor, ey? Nice name ya got there. So you don’t know your last?” Hank tilted his head as he asked this question, trying to get Connor to look him in the face. It worked. “No, I don’t have a last name. Or a family.” Connor said the last part pointedly over his shoulder at Kim, who bristled a bit from his tone. “My god, he speaks.” Hank laughed, shaking his head. Kim nodded toward Hank to ask to speak privately. Hank obliged with a secret smile sent to Connor, twirling his finger by his head in a universal way of saying, ‘He’s crazy.’ Connor smiled back.

 

Connor hadn’t heard the conversation they had had, though he assumed it had to do with what they were going to do with some kid that had nowhere to go. After they were done talking, Kim had walked out of the building, along with Don, giving a quick ‘goodbye’ to Connor as he left. Hank took his time to collect his things and put on his coat before addressing Connor again. He knelt down and smiled, setting his hand firmly on his shoulder. It was comforting. “Whaddya say we head to Target and buy you a winter coat, hm? Then you can stay at my place until we find out who your guardians are. I’ve got a pretty nice guest-room you can stay in, and a son your age that’s eager to meet ya. What about it?” His smile was wide and contagious, it made Connor feel at home again. “I wouldn’t want anything but.” Hank laughed. “A proper man using proper english, ey? I like it! We’re gonna get along just fine, kiddo.” Connor, for once in the past two hours, agreed wholeheartedly.  


	2. The Drug Dealer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, again! 'Why such a quick update?' Glad you asked! I was bored, and I wanted to see how Ariel would react!! Enjoy this one guys! And if you've seen 'Erased,' please don't spoil it for anyone who doesn't know in the comments!! Bless and dab!

Sitting next to Hank in the car was both familiar to Connor and alien to him at the same time. He was much smaller than he always had been, the seatbelt annoyingly close to his neck. He sneaked a glance over at Hank, who was subconsciously tapping along to the radio playing softly in the car. No metal music blaring. No gruff expressions and screaming expletives sent to the other drivers around them. Hank noticed his wide-eyed stare. “So, Connor. You really have no parents, huh?” Connor blinked.  _ He’s trying to ease me into confession?  _ Hank was always good at his job, sneaking bits of information through casual conversation, garnering the other’s trust. Connor huffed under his breath.  _ If I really were a runaway kid, this might’ve worked. Sorry to disappoint, Hank.  _ “I really don’t.” Hank side-eyed Connor, a slight glint in his eye.  _ He’s worried?  _ “Huh. I’ve never met a kid without parents, or at least some sort of guardian….” He scratched at his chin as he flicked on his turn signal. Connor had never actually heard the clicking sound it made. It was deafening. “It’s not that hard of a concept, Lieutenant-”  _ Shit.  _ Hank raised his eyebrows. “Lieutenant, huh?” He laughed under his breath. “Not quite, though that’d be nice, wouldn’t it?” He smiled over at Connor, who was sitting straight and stiff. “You’re interested in police ranks?” Connor nodded slowly. “Think you may want to join, someday? We could use a smart kid like you.”  _ If only you knew.  _ He remained silent, glueing his eyes to the headlights in front of them. Hank sighed. “Nah, I’m just a detective as of late. What’d ya say, though? It’s not a hard concept?” He chuckled. Connor looked back at him. “Well, androids don’t have parents. And there are ways to create human offspring without copulation in the year 2020.”  _ Maybe a bit too far.  _ Connor sucked in a breath as he noticed how Hank was looking at him. He whistled as he turned his attention back to the road. “Wow, kid. You know your stuff. Except androids aren’t really a real thing right now. Just a theory. You read a lot of National Geographic?”  _ Oh. That’s right. The first androids were released for regular consumers in the year 2022, two years from now.  _ Connor nodded. Hank brightened at that. “You and Cole will get along great. He thinks androids are the future, swears on it. It’s impossible, if you ask me, but he’s always been stubborn.” Connor moved his eyes back on the road, his face carefully blank. They were entering the parking lot. 

 

Hank turned off the car and unbuckled his seatbelt. “Alrighty, kiddo. We’re gonna run in and get you some clothes and stuff. You can pick out a candy too, if you’d like. It’s getting mighty late though, so let’s try and hurry, ok?” Connor nodded. His internal clock wasn’t there, and now that the car was off, he couldn’t really tell what time it was. But it was dark, which was normally when humans disappeared and came back when it was light again. Connor always wondered why. He knew humans had to sleep, but why they refused to stay after a certain time, he’d never know.  _ Maybe they’re scared of the dark.  _ Connor ignored this thread of thought, as it wasn’t currently relevant, and made his way outside the vehicle.  _ It’s freezing.  _ Connor’s brows furrowed. He didn’t like these new sensations. “Alright, Connor, let’s hurry on inside. Don’t wanna catch a cold, now do we?” Hank smiled and offered his hand. Connor took it.  _ A cold? Androids can’t incubate germs….  _ But a human could. Connor huddled closer to Hank in this realization; he did a good job of blocking the wind. Hank chuckled. “Cold, isn’t it? Let’s jog the rest of the way, ok?” Connor nodded as he began to do just that. He cursed under his breath at how much harder moving was for him. His limbs felt sluggish and numb, and they were nubby and practically useless. Hank noticed how frustrated he was becoming. “I know it’s late, and you’re probably tired, we’ll make sure this go as fast as possible, I promise.”  _ Tired? Is that what this is? It’s hell.  _

 

Once they got inside, Connor breathed a sigh of relief. It was much, much warmer. And, for some reason, the lights made him feel safer.  _ Scared of the dark….  _ Hank kept hold of his hand as they made a beeline for the clothing section. Connor observed his surroundings with great interest. All of the advertisements were either large, plastic signs or LED screens.  _ No holograms….  _ There weren’t any androids, only humans and primitive machines for ‘self checkout.’ If Connor recalled correctly, all in-person stores went out of business shortly after this year. All of the online stores like Amazon and Ebay reigned supreme, and the physical stores couldn’t compete any longer. It was nice to get an experience of shopping in-person though. “Alright, kiddo, here we are. Let’s look in the clearance section, ok?” He then went over to a small section of shirts on the far wall. “Do you know your size?” Connor tilted his head. He’d never had to think about that. CyberLife provided all his clothes prior to the war, and after he went Deviant, he’d borrowed a lot of clothes from Hank that he didn’t wear anymore. But he was much smaller now. He shook his head. Hank hummed. “Well, you look about Cole’s size, so I’m gonna say a 10.” He then gestured towards the wall of shirts. “Pick out a couple shirts while I go look for some jeans, ok? Look for the number 10 on the hangers.” He then began to briskly walk towards the middle of the section, which had a large sign reading: ‘Boy’s pants.’ Connor turned back towards the shirts and began searching. 

 

When Hank came back, Connor had picked out 3 shirts, all of which were cool-color coded. One was green with intricate blue shapes, another was a soft grey sweater with light blue lines running down the arms, and the third was just a plain, light blue crewneck. Hank was carrying a puffy, grey winter coat with black fur along the hood and a couple pairs of jeans, one worn and the other a dark blue. He nodded towards what Connor was carrying. “Ya like blue, huh? That’s Cole’s favorite color too.” Connor had known that. Hank told him a while ago, on Cole’s birthday, years after he had died. Hank had been drinking a lot and Connor was worried. He’d stayed with Hank that night, ensuring he didn’t hurt himself. He was prone to that in Connor’s time.  _ But not in this time.  _ Connor reminded himself. At the checkout, Hank nodded towards the candy section. “Why don’t you pick something out?”

“I don’t eat.” Hank raised his eyebrows. “Is that a choice of yours, or did someone tell you you shouldn’t?” Hank was concerned, Connor knew this, yet he still found it humorous. Androids didn’t eat. Androids didn’t sleep. They couldn’t, and they didn’t need to. Connor just didn’t know how to tell that to him. Androids weren’t a thing in this time-frame, after all. “Both. I don’t need to eat, it’ll make me sick.” Connor figured that wording would work. It wasn’t that it made him sick per-say, but Hank would probably get the message. Hank blinked down at Connor. “You’re allergic to candy? God, that must suck, huh?” Connor looked up at him.  _ Close enough. _

 

After they had bought everything and got back to the car, Connor began to feel strange. It was like he couldn’t hold up his head anymore, his vision kept blurring in and out of focus, tears building in his eyes. He shook his head vigorously in an attempt to make it stop. That’s when he yawned. His eyes widened as he looked strangely at his hand that had subconsciously raised itself to cover his mouth. _What the fuck?_ “Tired? It’s a good thing we’re almost home, you look like you’re about to pass out.” Horrified, Connor kept staring at his hands in his lap. The fact that Hank was so calm about this unnerved Connor. _This isn’t normal._ Once they had pulled in to Hank’s driveway, Connor began to panic a bit. He was about to meet Cole, Hank’s son, who had died around this time period. If Connor remembered correctly, Cole was presumed to have killed himself just before his birthday; his body was found buried in the snow after it began melting in the spring of 2020. Hank had profusely claimed that there was no way Cole would've killed himself, that it had to have been murder; but after 5 years of investigating the case with no leads, they gave up. Hank was the only one who kept desperately trying. He never figured it out. Connor swallowed. “Ok, Connor, here we are! Now, some quick notes: I have a dog, his name’s Sumo- You’re not allergic to dogs, are you?” Connor shook his head. “I love dogs.”

“Alright! Well, he’s a bit big, but he won’t hurt you, I promise. Now my son Cole  _ should  _ be in bed, and if he’s not, then he’s got a storm coming.” Hank winked at Connor who smiled.  _ He always did love his son.  _ “You can use the guest-room, no one’s in there as of now. It’s got a bed, a dresser, and a TV; feel free to watch some, just not after 9 PM, at least on school nights. I’ll show you where the bathroom is, you can use it whenever you need to. I’ve got some spare toothbrushes as well, so you can use one of those. Copy?” Connor nodded, unbuckling his seatbelt and opening the door.

 

When he got inside, he’d already expected Sumo jumping on him, what he hadn’t expected, however, was how different the place looked. It was the same house, no doubt about that, but it looked more… alive. There were National Geographic magazines strewn across the coffee table, a video gaming console plugged into the TV, the controllers left on the couch, a Spiderman figurine on the counter. Connor smiled. “Sorry about the mess, we obviously weren’t expecting guests. Come over here, I’ll show you the guest-room.” They walked down the hallway towards the guest-room, Sumo close at their heels. Cole was peeking through his bedroom door, a mischievous smile on his face. Hank hadn’t seen it; Connor did. Cole looked a lot like his father with his dancing eyes and crooked smile, yet he also had his own unique features, like his hazel-green eyes and soft brown hair. Connor gave a small wave, to which Cole responded by waving back and closing the door. “Cole, what’d I tell you about waiting till tomorrow?” Hank said this over his shoulder as he opened the guest-room door and walked in. He shook his head. “That kid….” He walked over to the dresser and pulled out one of his T-shirts. “It’s pretty big, but you can use this as a sleeping shirt for tonight.” Connor glanced over at the digital clock: 12:34 AM. “Alright, Connor, I think you’re all set for the night. You can knock on my door if ya need anything, my room’s the one at the end of the hallway; ya know, the one that doesn’t say ‘Cole’s Room?’” Connor nodded towards Hank while accepting the shirt. “Thanks, Hank….” Hank smiled. “A sharp memory too! I don’t think I formally told you my name, have I?” Connor thought about that. Perhaps not, he couldn’t recall him ever telling him. “It’s alright though. I couldn’t leave ya at the police station, how cruel would that be? Anyway, I’m pretty beat, and I know you are too, so why don’t we hit the hay for tonight?” As if on cue, Connor yawned again, leading Hank to do so as well. “Dang it, kid, you know yawning’s contagious!” Hank laughed, while exiting the room.  _ I didn’t.  _ Connor, brows furrowed, glanced back at the bed. He didn’t know  _ how  _ to sleep. He shut the door and pulled off his clothes, slipping Hank’s T-shirt over his tiny frame. As he turned off the light and got into the bed, his head reeling, he vigorously hoped this was just what humans called a nightmare.

 

******

 

He was aggressively awoken by Sumo jumping on the bed, almost crushing his pathetically small body. He sat up and pet Sumo behind the ears, his favorite spot, while looking for the clock. It read: 7 AM. Connor rubbed at his eyes, which felt crusty and heavy. He didn’t like it. He heard Cole and Hank talking in the kitchen through the wall.  _ Ah. So it wasn’t a nightmare.  _ There was a light knock on the door, which was already slightly ajar. It was Hank. “Morning, kiddo. I called the school and they’re alright with you shadowing Cole for his classes. Are you up for that?” Connor looked down and to the side.  _ It might not be fair to these children if I could outdo them in everything….  _ “It’s alright if you’re not. I just figured you’d rather hang out with some kids your age rather than waiting around here while I’m at work.”  _ Kids my age, huh.  _ Then Cole showed up behind Hank, giving him finger bunny ears by his head as he chewed on a waffle. When Hank noticed he laughed, snatching Cole up and tickling his sides. “C’mere, ya little rascal, I may be old, but I’m faster than that!” Connor smiled as Cole screeched with laughter and his father did the same. It really was tragic how quickly something so strong could break.  _ It might be nice to get to know Cole in a way I wasn't able to before….  _ “Alright, Hank, I’ll go to school with Cole.” Cole pumped his fist in the air as Hank chuckled at Connor’s phrasing. “Good to know, kid. Cole’s a handful, so make sure to keep an eye on him.” He said this while ruffling his son’s hair, an action that Cole attempted to swat away. Connor nodded.

 

While waiting at the bus-stop, Cole had spealed all his favorite cartoons and superheroes, Connor had listened intently, taking mental notes.  _ Cole sure doesn’t seem like a kid thinking about suicide….  _ “And my favorite of all time: Spiderman. He’s a really cool character, though it’s upsetting how few people my age actually read the comics. They’re all like, ‘Noooo, he’s in high-school,’ but see, that’s where the movies got it wrong. Peter Parker, the Spiderman the movies were portraying, is in college, and he’s broke. It’s  _ Miles Morales  _ that’s in high-school. Shows ya how much kids know, amiright?” Connor nodded along to everything he said, marveled at how good he was at communicating.  _ Maybe he felt outcasted?  _ When the bus showed up, Cole invited him to sit in the back, ‘the coolest spot,’ he had said. “All my friends are back here. We’re kinda a squad, ya know?”  _ So not very outcasted.  _ During the bus-ride, Cole had shown Connor off to all his friends, explaining how he might stay for awhile.  _ I sure hope not.  _ Connor had been pretty quite most of the trip, although from time to time he was asked a question he couldn’t really answer; 

‘Where are your parents?’ 

‘Did you run away from home?’

‘Are you a wanted criminal??’ Connor had laughed along with Cole’s friends, growing increasingly uncomfortable with each question asked. Once they’d arrived, Connor felt a surge of relief. “C’mon, Connor! I want you to meet my teacher!” Connor awkwardly waved ‘goodbye’ to Cole’s friend group and caught up with Cole.  _ Teacher, huh?  _ In Connor’s time, every teacher was replaced with androids, since teacher’s weren’t being paid much anyway, and there was a shortage. Connor thought it’d be pretty neat to meet a human teacher and to observe how they taught differently. Connor learned quickly that his name was Mr. Andron, and that he was ‘the best teacher ever,’ according to Cole and his friends. Connor shook his hand and smiled up at him; he had a firm handshake, always a good sign. “Well, Connor, welcome to our humble abode! Everyone, make sure Connor here feels welcome and accepted, no bullying or imposing questions!” Everyone nodded and cheered for Connor as he stood in front of the class; Connor’s face felt warm, he didn’t know why. Mr. Andron had set up a desk next to Cole’s for Connor to sit at temporarily, or ‘however long he needed.’ Mr. Andron winked when he said this, patting Connor on the shoulder. 

 

It was a pretty basic setup, Connor learned. The class was run very similar to elementary schools in Connor’s time. Connor hadn’t ever gone to school, however, so he couldn’t verify this. When lunch time rolled around, everyone went to the cafeteria in a single-file line. Connor observed his surroundings as he pretended to care what was on his plate. Cole led him to what he called, ‘the cool kid’s table,’ and let him choose where he wanted to sit. Connor didn’t really understand this practice, though Cole was adamant that each seat was different and special in it’s own way. Half-way through lunch, Connor noticed a kid sitting all by themselves, their hoodie covering their face. They weren’t eating. “Who’s that?” Connor asked, pointing secretly towards the child. Cole looked up from eating his sandwich. Then, with his mouth full of food, he replied, “Oh, him? That’s just Gavin. He’s in our class, but he doesn’t really talk to anyone.” One of Cole’s friends jumped at the opportunity and added, “We all like to guess why he’s like that. I’m pretty sure he’s a drug dealer!”

“No, no! He’s mute and doesn’t know sign language!”

“Pfft, nah. He’s cursed! Ooooh!!!” The kids at the table all laughed, Connor tilted his head.  _ Gavin? No, it couldn’t be….  _ The math did add up, though. In his time, Gavin was 28, almost 29.  _ That would mean in this time-frame he would be 10, almost 11… It makes sense.  _ But he couldn’t know for sure. “Hey, does anyone know his last name?” Cole tilted his head at Connor. “Why does that matter?”

“I don’t know, I’m just curious.”

“It’s Reed, isn’t it?” One of Cole’s friends piped up, leaning a bit too far over the table. Cole pushed at her, laughing. “You weirdo, what? Ya gotta crush on him?”

“Ew, gross! In your dreams, Cole!”

“Why would that be in my dreams??” Connor lost track of the conversation somewhere around that point, his mind reeling.  _ Gavin was an outcast? Figures, he always was a prick.  _

 

After lunch, the class made their way back towards the classroom, talking loudly amongst themselves as the Hall Monitors shushed them. Connor couldn’t hear any of it though, his mind was numb. Cole noticed. “Hey, man. You ok? You didn’t really eat your food either…. Are you feeling sick?” He pushed lightly at Connor as he said this, knocking him out of his trance. “Huh? Oh, yea, maybe.” He kept his face carefully blank, so as not to make Cole aware how much he was internally freaking out. “Alright, man, just lemme know if you need to see the nurse, ok?” Connor nodded as he sat back at his desk. In his timeline, Gavin was a prick. But he was rarely a quiet one. Connor found it uncharacteristically unsettling that Gavin wasn’t part of some big bully group or something. It actually seemed to be the opposite.  _ Strange what you can find out about a person by exploring their past….  _ Soon after the class calmed down, the final bell rang and class started again. Connor kept glancing over at Gavin’s desk, observing what he did. He never spoke, never engaged with the class, but he took notes, and he paid attention to the teacher. Often, Connor noticed, kids would secretly pull up their hoods and pose a grim expression, laughing among themselves in light mockery of his reserved behavior. Connor didn’t know how he felt about that. After class had ended, Gavin left with haste, exiting the room as if he hated being there.  _ Figures.  _ Connor thanked Mr. Andron before walking with Cole to where the busses were picking kids up to take them home. On the way back, Connor participated less in the rowdiness of Cole’s friends, lost in his own head. He couldn’t come up with any logical reason as to why ‘Douchebag Gavin Reed,’ known extrovert with an inferiority complex, wouldn’t be social in the slightest in his childhood.  _ Maybe he really was a drug dealer.  _ Connor huffed under his breath.  _ That wouldn’t be surprising in the slightest. _ __ __

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, yes. I know Gavin's age doesn't add up, and neither does Cole's, it doesn't matter, ok? Shhhhhhh..... Unfortunately, the next update will NOT be tomorrow, you may have to wait a while, but hey! That's what makes getting a new chapter fun, right?? Take it easy, you guys! Much love.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for stopping by and checking this story out!! And, Ariel, I hope you cried at least 4 times. That was my goal here. Anyway, stay tuned for the next chapter!! Love you all, comments and kudos are always appreciated!


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